An anatomical description of metaphor in best intent
to demonize the miserable oppressed and trod-upon in seeking out
the greatest love and longest sentences, like lakes in
droplets falling on a dew of green and envious nothing to hold the
wasted pieces in my broken blood and weep the silent screams
and lie upon a back of porcelain feeling.
This intent to mediocrite the stance of true sacrificial,
to shout and true till the depths, exhausted, fall into slumber
like the bitter clouds that sit upon an empty grave.
This is all I am today.
Tell me and I promise.
Tune to melody, and working in reverse is fine to feel out the shuddering
contours of a beauteous frame before the sheets give way of white to stain.
Beauteous and marred, thus trembling and holding out the crimson
to examine the status of a virgin soul upon the cracks
as hope and truth and innocence coagulate.
Decadence, be it far from me, further detached from those
it needs to powering them for it be.
Hold and repeat the rifle till there is no more felt upon to stick the powder
in burning for the world to fall
until the decay becomes as low and filth and despair to hope the time
of melting Dali clocks as you.
Noontide by the falling lakes;
recycle imagery to keep the knowing strong,
to lean upon not understanding your own truth, and fall.
Coerce me into a pit of pink elephants
and blue tigers
in order so successive
that may fall and spell oblivion,
fall, fall, fall!
You desperate reflection of a broken pulse gone cold!